February 8th, 2007



We're going to Paris tomorrow, for a week. It's a vacation (I almost never admit to going on vacation), it's eight days, we've been to Paris before. It should be a low-stress trip and a low-stress prep.


I have been Getting Ready To Leave for hours and hours. You wouldn't think, would you, that Getting Ready to Leave would include measuring windows and laying curtain-fabric out on the floor and taking a picture of it. But it does. Also getting the 10' ladder, the toxic primer, and the sandpaper out of the bedroom, where Houseguest (tm) has been sanding and spackling and priming the column around the heating pipe in preparation for faux-marbling it once the heat's been turned off. Also completely clearing off the beautiful oak desk I've had for upwards of 30 years, the top of which got damaged by a rain storm in my study a few months ago. The furniture guy is going to come tomorrow morning and take it all apart and refinish the top, also repair it where the movers split it in half and screwed it back together with screws that cut my fingers when I'm not wary.

Have you noticed that none of this includes packing actual things we're going to be taking with us? I have.

Luckily, we're not leaving until tomorrow evening, and I'm very good at throwing things into a suitcase at the speed of light. But I'm slightly less good at making up my mind about what I want to take. So I'd better quit farfelling around and go take a good squinny at my wardrobe, hadn't I?

It's only a week. Which is not going to be a source of comfort when we have to come back (it's always hard for me to leave Paris). But right now, it seems like a good thing.